Pilgrims
by Friscogirl
Summary: Asked to deliver supplies to a tribe of Indians...Heyes and Curry wonder if this such a good idea with winter rolling in.


**Pilgrims**

November was no time to be stuck seven thousand feet up in the mountains of Colorado. But that's where Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes found themselves after escorting a payroll to a mining company up in the Rockies northwest of Denver. The leaves had long since left the aspens, and the pines stood as stiff sentinels in the cold winds of the approaching winter. The sky was slate gray and the clouds threatening.

Heyes patted the two hundred dollars he'd just put in his pocket, and buttoned his gray coat with a shiver. "Feels like snow comin'."

Standing next to him on the muddy street of a camp that dared to call itself the town of Promise, Kid Curry sniffed the air and nodded. "It do at that."

Heyes looked around him at the unpromising cluster of ugly one room buildings and tents. Some whiskey barrels had been cut in half and fashioned into benches of a sort, where a few of the miners were propped enjoying a taste of their overdue paychecks. There were no sidewalks, only planks of wood strewn haphazardly over the puddles of mud. The street was darkening in the early afternoon, and the only real light came from the saloon on the corner. He could hear an out-of-tune piano playing from behind the dirty swinging doors, but except for that there didn't seem to be anything at all going on in town. There didn't look to be a hotel, and Heyes didn't relish the thought of a boarding house with the scruffy figures he's encountered earlier on the road.

"Hard to believe there's gold in them thar hills," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"That was what they called the California gold rush," Heyes informed his partner.

Curry snorted. "The darndest things you pick up in them books, Heyes! Can you contribute anything _useful_ to our present situation?"

Heyes contemplated entering the saloon to check out the poker tables, then thought again. "Things don't look too promisin', "he agreed.

Another sigh from Curry. "So, what next? Get outa town and sleep rough?"

Another sigh from Heyes. "Gonna be a cold night this high up in the mountains."

They sighed in unison.

"Wish we were in Denver," Curry said.

It was Heyes' turn to snort. "'If wishes were horses, all men would ride'", he quoted Grandma Curry.

Grandson Curry rolled his eyes. "Put a lid on it, partner."

Heyes gave his cousin a grin, which quickly faded as a snowflake landed on his cheek. "Here it comes."

Another sigh from the two ex-outlaws.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted their musings, and they swivelled to see an elderly man standing before them. He looked to be in his seventies, with a shock of white hair pushing out in all directions from under his brown woolen cap, below which intense dark eyes glittered. He couldn't have been much more than five feet tall. He was dressed in a thick wool coat which revealed a clerical collar on his shirt.

"I'm the Reverend Caleb Meeker," he said, extending a scrawny hand.

"Joshua Smith." Heyes grasped the offered hand and was surprised at its strong grip.

Curry tipped his hat. "Thaddeus Jones."

"I am told you are the men who brought the payroll into town."

Heyes and Curry exchanged puzzled glances. "Yes, we did," Heyes answered. Lom had wired them a week earlier, asking them to help out an old friend who managed the operation. "Is there some kinda problem?" God forbid, he thought, that someone had already stolen the box before its contents were properly distributed and that suspicion was falling on the two armed strangers who brought it into camp.

"No, no," the reverend hastened to reply. "I have a problem you see. And you are the God given answer to my dilemma!"

Heyes chuckled. "Don't think me and God do all that much work together," he said. He brushed another snowflake off his nose and squinted up in the sky. "Look, I don't mean to rush you, but the weather is startin' to turn."

Reverend Meeker glared up at the clouds as if issuing a complaint to the man on high. "To be sure, to be sure."

"And…?" Curry asked. Would this strange little man ever get to the point?

"To the point then," Meeker said, as if reading Curry's thoughts. "My congregation has adopted, if you will, a small tribe of Indians over the next ridge. They do some mining and hunting. But even in the best of seasons they barely get by. And this summer was very dry; not as much fish in the streams, and the deer went to lower elevations for food. "

"Sounds rough," Heyes interjected, hoping to hurry the man on with his tale.

Meeker sighed. "Indeed. So my congregation, as I said, pitched in extra supplies that we hope will bring them through the winter. Some meal, oaten grain, tools." He shrugged. "It's not much, but it's what we can afford to give."

"Sounds right generous of you,' Curry said. "So where do _we _fit into things?"

"I hired a driver to help with the wagon we stocked up. But when he heard it was Indians were were helping, he walked off the job. " Meeker frowned. "Said he wouldn't help savages. A horrible man!"

"And…?" Heyes prodded.

"And, since you did such a fine job bringing in the payroll, I was hoping to hire you to help with my errand, as well. The wagon is all packed and ready to go, but there is no possibility of me driving it over the pass. I'm just too old, you see. " He looked pleadingly into first Heyes', and then Curry's eyes. "So will you boys help me?"

Heyes squirmed under the desperate entreaty. It seemed little enough they could do for the man…and his Indians. But there was the matter of the weather, and a storm coming on.

"I can pay a hundred dollars," the reverend added, encouraged by the lack of an immediate turndown.

Curry shrugged and looked at Heyes. "How far off is this settlement? You say it's over a pass?"

"Oh, just a few thousand feet higher than where we are now," Meeker said dismissively. "I have two strong mules and a sturdy wagon. If you get going right away, you should be there at nightfall."

Heyes looked back and forth along the muddy street, mulling the idea. Seemed like there were three choices: stay in a filthy rooming house; sleep rough in a possible snowstorm; or maybe sleep in a shelter with a fire going.

He chose fire over ice.

"Seems to me, Thaddeus, we could help the reverend. " The Kid gave him a _you must be crazy _ look, but Heyes plowed on. "Think of it this way," he said to his partner. "I'm sure those folks will let us sit by their fires until sunup. Beats setting up camp by ourselves. And they may have something to eat." Food was always a good way to convince the Kid to do something, and this was no exception.

"If it's just up there and we deliver and come back tomorrow, I guess I'm game," Curry said unenthusiastically. He looked at the reverend. "You'll show us the way, then?"

"Oh mercy! I am not fit for such a ride!" Meeker explained. His hand dove into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. "I was going to give this to the other driver. It's a very clear map showing how to get to the settlement."

Heyes peered at it in the dimming light.

"You CAN read, can't you?"

Heyes nodded. "Seems pretty clear. We can get there by nightfall, you say?"

Reverend Meeker nodded vigorously. "Then you'll do it?"

Curry put out his hand, palm up. "Show us the money."

Heyes carefully checked the wagon over before climbing up into the driver's seat. The reverend hadn't lied; the mules looked sturdy enough and well fed, and the wagon's wheels showed no sign of imminent collapse. With any luck at all, the trip up over the pass would be uneventful.

"Okay," said the Kid as he pulled himself up next to Heyes. He'd tied their two horses behind the wagon and made sure the barrels of supplies were firmly lashed down. He'd had more than a few bad experiences with wagons, mules, and loose cargo than to want to repeat the experience seven thousand feet up a mountain.

Heyes turned with a final look at the Reverend Meeker, who was watching anxiously for them to depart. "They ARE expecting us, aren't they? And they're friendly?"

"There was no way to tell them you are coming, " Meeker replied. "But I've found them to be most agreeable people."

"Harrumph," Curry snorted as Heyes snapped the lines to set the mules into motion.

"Aw, c'mon Kid! " Heyes teased. "Nice road trip through the pines. Doin' the Lord's work."

"Harrumph." Curry eyed the map dubiously as Promise receded into the mud. The road rose gently for the first few miles, and except for the cold wind and the occasional snowflake, it wasn't hard going. Heyes was too focused on the reins to do much talking, so Curry enjoyed the respite from Heyes's usual non-stop commentary of flora and fauna on the trail. Except for the creaking of the wagon and the soft clomping of the animals' hooves on the dirt, it was completely still. Curry heard a squawk and looked up to see a huge eagle circling down over a small opening in the woods. It was a little unnerving, the quiet. He patted his handgun reassuringly and watched as the eagle suddenly swooped down and then rose up with a small animal in its beak.

"I'd like to see the mountains from that high up," Heyes remarked as he, too, watched the eagle fly upwards with its prey.

"How you gonna do that? " Kid scoffed. "You think people will ever fly?"

Heyes pondered the question. "Dunno. Heard some folks were going up in balloon contraptions. Might like to try it."

"Sounds foolhardy to me. We're born on the ground, we should stay on the ground," Curry said philosophically.

Heyes chuckled. "Gotta have more imagination, Kid! Wouldn't it be somethin' to fly like that bird, just swoopin' and risin' wherever the mood took ya?"

"Be a good way to escape a posse," Curry agreed. "Maybe some day."

Heyes clucked to the mules. "Get on there, fellas! Sky's darkening."

Actually, it was whitening. The occasional snowflake was turning into more of a flurry, sticking to their eyelids and making it hard to see the road ahead. Heyes put his bandana over his nose and mouth and squinted back at their horses, who were snorting unhappily at the cold flakes and muddy road beneath them.

"Maybe we should pull over and wait it out?" he asked Curry.

Kid looked skeptical. To both sides the mountain rose steeply, covered with dense pines, boulders and assorted brush and trees. Snow was beginning to cling to the branches, and it would have been a pretty sight except it bode ill for finding a shelter. Somewhere down below he could hear the rushing waters of a small river. At least there was water, but it would likely be like drinking ice itself.

"Don't look too promising," he finally said. "Maybe we should press on. Want me to take the reins for awhile?"

"Sure." They shifted positions on the buckboard, and Kid whipped the mules onward.

"How far you reckon we are from the pass?"

Heyes pulled out the map again. "Hard to figure. The map shows that stream down below us. So I know we're goin' right so far. I was hopin' it would clear up a bit higher we got. " He put the map into his pocket. "Reckon we'll know it when we start feeling like we're going _down_ hill instead of up."

"You sure know how to state the obvious, Heyes," Kid teased.

Heyes ignored him.

They were still climbing, and the snow was now several inches thick on the road. Curry only barely recovered the reins when the right mule suddenly lost traction and began to slip off into the woods. "Whoa! Easy girl! Easy"

The mule brayed in annoyance as it finally steadied itself, and then did what a mule does best. Refused to move.

"C'mon girl," Curry implored. "Just a few more miles. Lift up your hoof."

Heyes pulled his black stetson deeper over his forehead, trying in vain to keep the snow from pouring into his eyes.

"Don't think she's listenin', kid."

Curry ignored him. "C'mon sweetheart," he said in his silkiest voice. "Let's keep goin'."

The mule's large ears flapped back to listen to him, but those were the only things moving. The mule on the left brayed, looked at its teammate, and shook the snow off its back.

"Think we're in for it," Heyes sighed.

Curry glared. "Why don't you try YOUR silk tongue?"

"I don't sweet talk animals," Heyes scoffed. "Only the ladies."

Curry glared, and clicked once more while snapping the reins. It had turned awfully cold, and now that they weren't moving it felt like the snow was doing its best to cover them in an unwelcome blanket.

Heyes got up stiffly and jumped from the seat. "Maybe if I pull at them," he said, and went ahead of the mules and started to tug on their halters. Nothing.

"C'mon guys," Curry tried crooning again. "I know it's cold. Don't you want to warm up next to a campfire with those nice Indian folks?"

Heyes tugged harder. Just when it seemed the left mule was about to nudge forward, it was Heyes's turn to lose traction on the snow-crusted mud. Curry watched helplessly as Heyes' feet came up from underneath him and sent him rolling down the incline off the road.

"Heyes!" Curry called out uselessly. He watched as Heyes continued to roll through the drifts of snow, before slamming to a stop against a fallen tree.

The mules also watched with interest, their ears flopping in the snowy wind. Curry frowned when Heyes didn't immediately sit up, and quickly secured the reins and put on the wagon brake.

"Don't try nothin' clever," he commanded the mules, and slipped down the incline over to where Heyes was now slowly pushing himself up off the snow and straightening his hat.

"You okay?" Curry asked his partner.

Heyes wiped the wet snow dripping off his face and nodded. "Oh, I'm just GREAT! Nothing like a swim through the snow to freshen a fella up."

They both looked around them at the snow covered landscape, and then up at the mules staring curiously down at them.

"I vote we find some shelter," Curry said. "Chances are we'll keep slippin' and slidin' and we might not be so lucky next time."

Heyes nodded, and indicated a small opening in the forest. "Let's pull over there and see what we can put together for some cover."

Once they staked down the animals, they piled up some of the supply barrels on the ground beside the wagon to provide a little protection from the wind, and then crawled under it with their blankets. There was no way to build a fire; all the wood was soaked through.

"It's gonna be a long night," Curry sighed. "That fleabag boarding house would 've been better."

"Too late now," Heyes said, trying to put a positive spin on things. "and at least there are no fleas. Look at it this way; we're out of the snow, we got our blankets, we got some biscuits and jerky. The sun'll come out tomorrow and we'll be on our way."

"Meanwhile it's darn cold and I'm darn hungry."

Heyes had nothing to say to that. He wiped away what snow he could, stretched his slicker over the wet ground, and carefully laid out his bedroll. "Only way we're going to stay warm is to cuddle up," he said ruefully.

Curry shook his head. "Not enough I gotta ride with you all day. Now I gotta SLEEP with you as well." He unrolled his blanket and laid down next to Heyes, and then pulled the blanket tightly over the two of them. "Try not to snore too loud," he muttered, and pulled his sheepskin jacket as tightly as he could around him.

"G'night Kid."

Outside the wagon they could hear the wind hissing through the pines.

When Heyes opened his eyes he was completely disoriented. He felt the warmth of the Kid's back against him, and listened a moment to his soft snore as he took in what seemed to be a wall of white surrounding the wagon they were under. Then it came back to him. The storm, the mules, slipping down the ravine. He sat up with a start, and was rewarded with a bang to his head.

"OUCH!"

Kid's eyes flew open and for a moment he looked just as disoriented as Heyes, who was now sitting rubbing the top of his head and looking more than slightly rumpled. Curry straightened more carefully, and pushed aside the blanket.

"We buried in?" he asked worriedly.

"Dunno."

Kid reached over and started pushing at the snow. To his relief it gave way and opened up a large hole, through which sunshine was unexpectedly glowing.

"Sun's already up!" he exclaimed in surprise, and began to push harder so they could get out from their shelter. When the opening was large enough to crawl through he shimmied up the drift, and sat for a moment contemplating the landscape of white that surrounded them.

Until he noticed an Indian squatting next to a fallen log across the small clearing , assembling what looked to be a campfire.

Heyes was pushing him from behind. "Get outa the way, Kid! Let me get some air!"

Curry reached out to pull Heyes towards him. "Uh, Heyes. We may have a problem."

Heyes was struggling with the snow. "A problem? Other than no food, nearly freezing to death and facing dim prospects about our ability to move on to the people we're supposed to be helping?"

"Uh….yeah, there's all that," Curry said, smiling nervously as the Indian glanced over to him. "And then…there's HIM."

"Him?" Heyes scrambled to his feet while dusting the snow off his trousers. He followed Kid's gaze to see a solemn faced man dressed in well worn buckskins, squatting next to what was now beginning to be a fire. And holding a rifle over his knees.

"Uh…." Heyes flashed his dimpled smile. "Good morning!" he greeted.

The Indian showed little interest in the greeting, returning his attention instead to adding more pieces of wood.

Heyes exchanged glances with the Kid. Neither of them had much experience with the native people in this territory. But Heyes was not predisposed to think negative thoughts. Instead, he moved cautiously closer to the flames, finally extending his hands towards them for the much needed warmth.

"Name's Joshua Smith," he greeted, trying not to be put off by the man's lack of response. "My friend here is Thaddeus Jones."

The Indian glanced over at Curry and gave the briefest of nods.

"And you are…?" Heyes hoped the man spoke at least some English.

"Brown Wolf."

"Well then!" Heyes said cheerfully. "Can't tell you how pleased I am to see you here. We 'bout froze to death last night."

Brown Wolf glanced over at the wagon, and then over at the still-staked animals. "Not cold enough to freeze," he commented.

"Well….it was darned cold," Heyes complained.

Curry finally joined them at the fire, and squatted down next to Brown Wolf. "Much obliged for the fire," he said. Brown Wolf nodded. "We got some jerky and biscuits if you're hungry," he added, thinking immediately of his stomach and the prospect of even brewing some coffee.

Brown Wolf shrugged, and Curry decided to take that as a yes. He stomped through the drifts back to the wagon and pulled out their cache of supplies. Within short order they were chewing on their meager breakfast while sipping Heyes' terrible coffee. Brown Wolf took a careful sip and with a grimace tossed the thick liquid into the snow.

"See?" Curry felt compelled to say. "I told ya your coffee is awful."

"How'd you find us, anyway?" Heyes asked companionably, ignoring his partner's jibe. "Not good weather for being on the road."

"Hunting."

Clearly Brown Wolf was a man of few words. "Why you here?" he asked in the silence that followed.

"I think we were looking for YOU."

Brown Wolf gave Heyes a puzzled look.

"We're bringing you some supplies. The nice folks down in Promise thought you might be hungerin' because of the drought this fall. Not much game to be found, I suppose."

"Hunh." Brown Wolf stood up and walked over to the wagon, and began to methodically inspect the contents of the various boxes and bags. He briefly examined a small crate of blankets and took a taste from the barrel of oats. The corn meal brought a grunt of recognition and satisfaction. Once his inspection was completed, he carefully resealed the containers and turned back to Heyes and Curry.

"We go now."

Curry threw some snow over the fire and stood stiffly to his feet. "Whatever ya say. Sooner we get going, sooner we get some place warm."

They quickly reharnassed the mules and repacked the wagon as Brown Wolf looked on silently. He patted their horses approvingly. "Good stock," he commented. He shifted the rifle to his shoulder, and Heyes wondered uneasily for a moment if he intended to take possession of the animals. Instead, Brown Wolf took hold of the right mule's bridle and began tugging her up the embankment.

"I know way," he reassured the two cousins as they reached the road and clambored back aboard the wagon.

"You wanna ride up here with us?" Curry asked. "Plenty of room."

"I walk."

The storm had dropped almost a foot of snow, which made for slow going along the rutted path that called itself a road. The animals clearly didn't like slogging through the drifts, but moved stoically ahead under Brown Wolf's firm hands. Suddenly a shaft of sunshine pierced the low dark clouds, and the horses snorted appreciatively. To the relief of both men and animals, the road started to head downslope, and the humans realized they had finally made it over the pass.

"Not much further now, I suppose?" Heyes asked cheerfully.

The only reply was a noncommital grunt from Brown Wolf.

The road suddenly came to a fork, and before Heyes could reach for his map, Brown Wolf turned off decisively towards the right. They began crossing through a large meadow. They saw the river slicing through the snow off ahead of them, and instead of pine trees, large boulders peaked up through the snow and vestiges of browned grass.

"Animals could use water," Curry suggested, and once again Brown Wolf grunted.

Curry refilled their canteens upstream from where the animals were slaking their thirst, while Heyes tried to make sense of the map.

"Hey, Brown Wolf, " he protested. "We was supposed to go LEFT back there. You got us goin' in the wrong direction."

Brown Wolf pointed further up the valley. "There. We go there."

Heyes pointed back from where they'd come. "No. I think it's THERE!"

The two men stared each other down, until Heyes finally gave in to the Indian's self assurance. After all, they were likely heading to his home, Heyes reasoned, so he had to know the way. Maybe it was a shortcut.

"All right, all right. We'll go YOUR way."

Brown Wolf grunted.

As they rounded an outcropping of trees awhile later, Heyes and Curry were astounded to see a small cabin ahead, not the Indian village they had been expecting.

"Whoa!" Heyes pulled up on the reins. "Where are we?"

"Homesteaders," Brown Wolf informed them.

"I thought we was headin' to your village!"

The cabin was small, but built sturdily of pine logs with a tar shingled roof. A shed nearby likely housed whatever livestock the people owned. They could see posts from a small fence poking up out of the snow. Smoke puffed up from the chimney. It was a pretty spot, with the mountains reaching up on three sides.

Brown Wolf let go of the bridles and stepped over to the buckboard. "My people no need this food. These people, yes.'

Heyes' eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Huh? How do you know that?"

"I know."

The partners exchanged baffled looks. "You sure?" Curry asked. "The reverend thought your folks was in need."

"We have furs. Fish in stream. Berries from fall. Deer." Brown Wolf lifted off the barrel containing the corn meal. "THIS we accept."

"So, we just hand over the rest to these folks?"

Brown Wolf nodded. "YOU hand over. I wait here."

"Why?"

"White folks no want be beholdin' to Indian," he said philosophically. "Better it come from YOU."

"If that's what you want," Heyes said doubtfully. When Brown Wolf nodded and stepped away from the wagon wheel, he flicked on the reins to move the mules forward.

As they approached the cabin the door cracked open a few inches, and they saw the barrel of a shotgun aiming at them.

"Hello the cabin!" Curry called out. "We mean you no harm!"

For a long moment there was no response, then the door widened a bit and a man in his thirties cautiously stepped out onto the wooden porch. He was dressed in simple work clothes with a deerskin jacket and a woolen cap pulled down over his ears.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"We come from Promise," Heyes called back. "The folks there sent ya some supplies."

The man slowly lowered the shotgun, surprise in eyes. "Come on forward," he said. "This is a big puzzlement."

Heyes and Curry jumped off the buckboard, raising up their hands as proof they had no intention of going for their handguns. The homesteader finally lowered his own weapon.

"It's all right, Molly," he called back to the cabin. "They seem peaceable."

A blonde haired woman in a thick woolen coat joined her husband on the landing. "Good morning," she said. Her voice was sweet, and her cheeks rosy from the crisp air. Suddenly a small boy of maybe three peeked out from behind her.

"Hello," Curry greeted.

The boy clutched onto his mother's skirts, and stared wide eyed at the two cowboys, and then at their guns.

"I'm Timothy Fordham," the man said. "My wife Molly. The little one here is Ned."

"I'm Joshua Smith. And this is Thaddeus Jones." The two tipped their hats politely.

"And you've come all the way from Promise on this wagon? To bring things to US?" The woman was clearly perplexed. "But, we don't know anyone in Promise."

"Well, Ma'am," Heyes replied, thinking up a plausible explanation. "The reverend there knowed you was homesteadin' out here. And what with the thin rains of the summer and fall, figgered you might have need of some supplies. Mining's been good in Promise, and the folks have some extras. So they hired us to bring some things to you. Tide you through the winter."

Curry, meanwhile, was lifting the boxes and cartons off of the wagon. Fordham stepped forward to lend him a hand.

"There's oatmeal, flour, some canned goods. Blankets. Some tools. Some dried beans, " Curry informed them. "Other things, too."

Molly was shaking her head, and Heyes saw tears welling in her eyes. "Why, I don't know what to say! This is wonderful!"

"I think there's feed for your chickens, if you have any," Curry said.

"We got FOUR chickens!" Ned piped up. "An' eggs!"

"Gentlemen, please forgive me!" Molly stepped over to Heyes with a smile. "You've come all this way and we haven't asked you in to get warm! "

Heyes thought how pleasant it would be to spend a few hours by the hearth, but then thought of Brown Wolf waiting back in the trees. "Thank you, ma'am, but we've gotta head back. Want to reach Promise before sundown."

"If you're sure?" Fordham asked. "It don't seem like we're very grateful…." He looked at the pile of boxes and shook his head, as if still not understanding why they were there.

"This really makes a difference," Molly said softly. "It makes all the difference in the world. Please tell the reverend how grateful we are." She hugged her husband closely. "The kindness of strangers! God bless them."

Brown Wolf was waiting where they'd left him, standing guard over the barrel of corn meal. He nodded in satisfaction as they pulled up.

"That was generous of you," Curry said. "They needed the goods."

As he spoke, a sudden downburst of snow swept over them. Both men turned up their coat collars in dismay. The ride to Promise looked to be anything but promising.

"Come," Brown Wolf ordered them, and heaved his barrel up into the wagon. "Come."

He headed off swiftly back up the road they'd just driven down, and the two men decided there was no logical choice but to follow the one person who knew the territory. And who knew how to build a warm campfire in a storm. When they reached the road fork, this time Brown Wolf veered off to the left, and Heyes realized that they were now heading where the map wanted them to go- towards the Indian settlement.

An hour or so later they came into another large meadow, and found a cluster of dwellings scattered along the river in the shelter of a copse of trees. Smoke swirled up from the lodges; there were horses tied to a picket line. The people all seemed to be inside.

Brown Wolf cupped his hands and made a bird sound, and at the noise people began to emerge from their shelters. Heyes counted a few dozen men, women and children, and more than a few barking dogs. For the most part they were dressed in bucksins and warm fur moccasins, though some of the women were wrapped in layers of colorful shawls. A few younger women had babies wrapped on their backs. The villagers and the newcomers stared uneasily at each other for a moment while Brown Wolf spoke to his people in his own tongue.

When he finished, there was a general murmur of agreement, and a woman stepped over to the wagon and motioned for Heyes and Curry to step down. The two men looked at each other warily, but followed her instructions after first gathering up their bedrolls. A young man in his teens hurried over to take the reins of the mules and horses and lead them off into what shelter the pine trees could provide.

The snow was falling in hard, icy flakes as Heyes and Curry ducked into the shelter the woman led them to. A small fire was burning, and a little girl of four or five blinked up at them fearfully from beneath a pile of woolen blankets. Brown Wolf followed them into the lodging and tied the entry flap to keep out the wind. Heyes and Curry hesitated a moment before sitting down on the blanket floor. They both remembered the last time they'd been inside a teepee: they'd been tied back to back and feared for their lives.

Apparently this time, much to their relief, they were to be treated as guests. The woman knealt down beside a simmering pot and scooped out two bowls of what looked to be a stew of grain and chunks of meat. "Eat," she said gently.

"My woman," Brown Wolf said after accepting his own bowl. "Laughing Water, in your English."

Both men smiled at her. "Thank you." The hot food tasted good and they ate it quickly. When Curry glanced longingly at the pot, the woman quickly re-filled his bowl.

"My partner can always eat," Heyes said with a smile to Laughing Water. She ducked her head to hide her own smile.

Brown Wolf took out a sharpening stone and began working on a small pile of flint arrowheads. Taking his cue, Curry removed his pistol from its holster and contented himself with giving it a thorough drying out and cleaning. Heyes knew he should follow suit, but decided it could wait. He lay back on the blankets and listened to the wind, and gradually fell into a deep slumber.

When he awoke, the sun was shining through the now-open door flap. He blinked and looked around for the Kid, who was nowhere to be found. Heyes got quickly to his feet and stepped outside, blinking in the bright light. The camp was now teeming with life. Campfires were burning near several of the wickiups; children were racing about and pelting each other with snowballs. Heyes spotted the Kid tending to their horses, and set off to join him.

"So what do you figger?" he greeted. "Should we head out or stay put a bit longer?"

Curry looked up at the clouds mixing in billowing clouds with the bright sun. "Wouldn't mind stayin' on another night," he said. "Folks here seem friendly."

Heyes nodded. "And Laughing Water is a good cook." He punched Curry playfully on the shoulder, and his partner smiled.

"You could learn from her, Heyes."

His eyes narrowed as he saw Brown Wolf walking towards them carrying a bow and a full quiver of arrows. "Where you headed?" he asked him.

"Hunting. Need meat. " He set off into the woods. Curry thought a moment, then followed him.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked. "I'm a pretty good shot."

Brown Wolf glanced at the Kid's sidegun with a shrug. "Better to use bow."

"Ain't never used one," Curry admitted. "I'll just keep a watch out for deer."

He turned to Heyes. "Well, champeen tracker of Southern Utah. Wanta join us?"

Heyes grinned.. "Nah. Think I'll stay here." He glanced around the busy settlement. "Suppose there's a card game to be found?"

Curry rolled his eyes and headed out with Brown Wolf. The air was crisp and smelled of wood and smoke. His stomach was full, and it was a good day to spend in the woods, with no worry of a posse finding him.

Heyes wandered around the village, watching people doing the usual chores of splitting wood and grinding dried corn for meal. Nobody approached him, but he was aware that he was being watched curiously. Finally a trio of young boys built up the courage to come over to him.

"Hi there," Heyes greeted.

The boys nodded shyly. Their long black hair was tied neatly in strips of leather, adorned with colorful beads. One boy held a spear, and Heyes surmised he was going fishing. He lifted up his finger as a signal to wait, and hurried back to the wickiup to scrounge together some line in his saddlebag which he could use on a fishing pole. The boys watched curiously as he pulled a promising branch from a tree and joined them at the river's edge.

"Fishing pole," he explained to them as he attached hook to line to branch. He tossed the line into the flowing water and waited. The boys squatted on the snow next to him, staring expectantly into the water, and when nothing happened, shook their heads at him in what could only be disapproval.

The oldest of the trio stepped out onto a rock ledge and poised himself, lance pointing downward, as his eyes darted back and forth looking for a fish. Heyes felt a tug on his line just as the boy launched his weapon, and they both pulled back a protesting fish. The smaller boys crowed in approval and beamed at Heyes as he unhooked a large trout from his line. Heyes handed the primitive rod to one boy and motioned to the river.

"Try it," he encouraged.

The boy mimicked how he'd seen Heyes toss the line into the water, and frowned in disappointment when nothing happened.

"Gotta be patient," Heyes encouraged. He took a deep breath of the clean mountain air and thought this was a pretty fine way to spend a November afternoon.

Curry, meanwhile, was up to his knees in snow as he crept behind Brown Wolf in search of deer or antelope for the evening meal. The snow made their movements soundless as their eyes darted alertly through the forest in search of tracks. Suddenly Brown Wolf pointed, and Curry froze. Off to their left he saw a deer searching through the snow for something green to eat. Brown Wolf slowly pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it on the bowstring. Within seconds he'd let the arrow fly. Curry watched as the weapon hit home; the deer staggered and collapsed into a snow drift. Its legs thrashed feebly for a few moments, and then it lay still.

Curry clapped his hand on Brown Wolf's shoulder to congratulate him, and they headed towards their prize. Then the wood's silence was broken by a low, angry growl. Both men looked over in the direction of the sound, just in time to see a muscular mountain lion leap off a falled tree trunk at them. Curry's hand whipped to his gun as the puma pounced onto Brown Wolf. Brown Wolf fell under the weight of the cat, which lay bleeding on top of him, mortally wounded.

Both men were breathing hard as Curry eased the lion off of the Indian, anxious to see if he were hurt. Brown Wolf sat up without help. Except for one claw mark on his right shoulder, he seemed uninjured. He stared at the dead cat, and then over at Curry, and reached out to clasp his arm.

"Fast shot," he said, and nodded.

When they returned to the village carrying the deer, they were greeted with delighted whoops and calls of congratulation. Laughing River and another woman relieved the men of their burden, and carried the deer off to prepare it for cooking. When Curry returned to the wickiup in search of Heyes, he found him seated there crosslegged, accompanied by three young boys, to whom he was teaching poker.

Curry was shaking his head as Heyes looked up with a grin.

"Got us a deer," Curry said.

Heyes nodded. "We caught some fish."

"Good eatin' tonight."

"Yup." Heyes laid down his hand; three aces and two queens, and the boys groaned in disappointment.

"Ya know, Heyes, you could let the boys win one."

"Yeah, I could." He winked at the boys. "But you know me, Kid. I never cheat at poker!"

The sun was giving up its fight to break up the clouds when the villagers gathered around several large campfires to share the welcome bounty. When the food was eaten and the pots taken away, the men passed around tobacco pipes, and they spent several contented minutes enjoying the fragrant leaves. Heyes pulled a cigarillo from his saddlebag and gave it to Brown Wolf, who lit it warily and then took a careful puff. He actually smiled as he tasted the rich tobacco, and nodded in appreciation to Heyes.

The women began to sing, joined in gradually by some of the younger men. It was a pretty tune, and the partners wondered what it was about. It seemed to be about the harvest, or good times, at least. The villagers were smiling; some of the elders were dozing off by the fires; children slept in their mother's blankets. When the song finished, Laughing Water motioned to Heyes and Curry, saying something which sounded like a request.

"Sing," Brown Wolf translated.

Curry blushed slightly at the thought of being at the center of attention, but Heyes had no such qualms. He launched into a hearty version of his favorite folk tune:

"Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free

tisthea gift to come down where we ought to be.

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

Twill be in the valley of love and delight."

Curry joined in for the chorus, and when they finished there was a warm murmur of approval from the listening villagers. Then for a moment it was silent, as everyone listened to the pleasant crackle of fire on wood and the soft snores of the old and very young. Stomachs were full, hunger, at least for now, was held at bay.

"Kid?" Heyes suddenly exclaimed. "I just realized what day this is."

Curry yawned contendedly. "And that is…?"

"It's Thanksgiving, Kid! Thanksgiving!"

Curry smiled. "Happy Thanksgiving, Han."

Hannibal Heyes grinned in surprise. "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too…Jed."

Heyes turned to Brown Wolf. "Happy Thanksgiving."

Brown Wolf snorted.

As he should, Heyes considered. As he should.


End file.
